


The Deed in the Reed

by ufp13



Category: Dances with Wolves (1990)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-13
Updated: 2008-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>missing scene between the kiss by the water and the sneaking back behind a tree. pure smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deed in the Reed

He carried her into the reed, never really stopping to kiss her, and laid her down carefully. She didn’t let go of him, didn’t give him the time to question her, to question their action, but pulled him down on her. After having opened his belt, her hands crept under his shirt in the need to feel his skin, to feel alive again, to deny her mind a coherent thought, for it would most likely end what her heart told her was the right thing to do.

Hungrily, his fingers ran over her body, feeling her every curve through her dress. A bit reluctantly, he tore his lips away from hers, explored her face with kisses while his hands tried to tug up the skirt of her dress. Not an easy task to accomplish, considering that he was lying on her. Despite her protest, he rolled off her in order to grant his hands a better chance to reach the skin of her legs, though he kept his mouth attached to her skin. She had to content herself with his chest, now, loosened his suspenders and yanked out his shirt fully. Her delicate fingers caressing his stomach and breast proved to be distracting, making his hands pause for a moment in their mission to uncover her legs. Though he recovered fast, remembering his goal, and a few moments later, he was rewarded with the first touch to her bare knee. Widening his range of touch, he drew circles with his palm on her skin, moving further up her thigh in the motion.

Stands With A Fist moaned under his ministrations. It had been a while since she had been touched like that, and only now did she realise just how much she had missed the physical attention, the nearness that was more than just a friendly, motherly hug. Grabbing Dances With Wolves' head with both hands, she guided it to face her and captured his mouth in a kiss, again, passionate, hungry, pouring her body's desire into the connection, communicating her longing. He responded with the same fervour, never taking his hands off her thighs, though.

The further up his hands moved, the more they started to shake. He wanted to worship her body the way it deserved, wanted to give it what it longed for, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to do so, was insecure in his ability to satisfy her. This insecurity must have reflected in the kiss, in his body under her hands, for she let their oral connection fade, slowly, pulling her lips from his, to look into his eyes.

“Don’t think, just let the feeling guide you.” She wriggled down against his hand. A nod was his only response, still amazed by the freedom with which these people rejoiced in their sexuality.

He ran his hand the last inches up under her skirt until it encountered her vulva. Her eyes fell shut for a few moments. When she opened them again, they shone with zest; a smile gracing her features. Dances With Wolves couldn’t help but smile back. Emboldened by her reaction, he began to probe her sex – caressing, rubbing, feeling: always watching her face closely for her responses, discovering what pleased her, how she liked to be touched.

Her moans increased in volume and in frequency, but she never broke their connection of eyes to assure him, to let him see the feelings he evoked in her. One of her hands came up to caress his cheek, the tangency speaking of love and affection. He leaned into the contact, angling his head to kiss her palm, while his thumb circled her clitoris.

Usually not one to be passive, Stands With A Fist contented herself with letting him play with her, save caressing his face. He obviously didn’t have much experience in pleasing a woman, but she was happy to serve as his test object – especially since he proved to be a fast learner. As much as she longed to reciprocate, she didn’t want to distract him, sure that his time to moan in pleasure under her attentions would come.

His movements grew bolder and bolder, and soon she was writhing under them. Her hips bucked as he sank his fingers into her, only to pull them out as far as the finger tips some moments later.

Feeling her wetness floating around his fingers, he had the urge to try something he had heard about. Extracting his digits from her heat, he brought them to his mouth, a bit tentative in the motion. Diffidently, he closed his lips around his fingers, taking his first taste of her. Having lowered his eyes earlier because he had been unsure of his actions, of his own reaction to the unknown flavour, of how she would respond, he now looked up, again, and was met by a soft expression on Stands With A Fist's face with a playfully raised eyebrow. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a lazy kiss. While it lasted, he began to finger her anew. With a deep, open-mouthed moan, she interrupted the oral contact. Filled with the desire to hear more of those sounds, he climbed between her legs.

“May I?” he asked, sounding confident though a shimmer of coyness still marked his voice.

She smiled and stretched. “All yours.”

Grateful for her trust and hoping that he wouldn’t disappoint, Dances With Wolves shoved her skirt some more inches upward to make her more easily accessible to his mouth. She raised her hips to assist him.

Balancing her hips on his hands from between her thighs, he parted her labia with his thumbs and bent forward, stopping shortly before the goal to inhale and connect the scent with the taste he remembered from a few moments prior. His breath tickled her hot, swollen flesh, making her squirm. He delighted in her responses, her responsiveness.

Slowly, he leaned in, trailing along her wet slit with the tip of his tongue at first, before starting to suck at the point where his touch had provoked the most passionate reaction earlier. His teeth scratched her skin lightly.

With every move he made, with every touch from him – be it teeth, tongue or lips – her movements became more fierce. The tip of a thumb sneaked into her entrance, rotating, adding to the stimulation.

One of her hands desperately clung to some stalks of reed, while the other was buried in his hair, keeping his head in place, urging him on to apply more pressure. He rubbed his tongue hard against her pleasure point and pressed his thumb further into her. When he changed to a suckling motion, her hips arched upward, her vaginal muscles contracted around his thumb, and a strangled cry escaped her throat, muted by her biting down on her lower lip in order to avoid attracting attention.

Carefully, he pulled her skirt down a bit and deposed her onto the ground. Crawling up, he was met by a happy, blissful smile on the face of the woman who held his heart, her breathing still heavy. With weak arms, she tugged him down for a slow kiss of gratitude and love.

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

“Thank you,” he answered and captured her lips again.

They would have to get up and separate in a short while, but neither wanted to dampen the mood by mentioning it.

= End =


End file.
